


All Over

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Coulson desperate, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Honeycomb room, Jiaying, Late Night Conversations, Skye is a superhero, Skye leaving, Skye pushing Coulson away, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Touching, Welcome Wagon, legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 02x12 snippets and future fic.  Honeycomb Room feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skoulson feels.

He paused for a moment, then continued talking.

It had been just him droning on for awhile now.  What if he'd put  her to sleep? He'd seen from the feed from the interrogation room, and knew she was still awake and on her computer, typing away when he'd walked down to the Bus to begin with.

Skye had locked herself up.

Of course she had.

Filling him with both admiration and dread at the same time. There was a _her_ and _them_ now.

He'd been filling in the details from the day, letting her know about Vin-Tak and how he was being sent away with Sif, without his memories intact.

"Sif said something to me, and it stuck with me," he said, turning his head against the door, listening from where he was seated on the floor. "That for all of their science and technology, her people couldn't account for some things in the universe..."

"Go. To bed. Coulson."

Sitting up straighter at the sound of her voice, he smiled to himself and slid back against the door.

So, she was listening.

"I thought she was talking about fate," he said, continuing on. "Now, I'm not so sure. Maybe what she was trying to say was..."

He fell backwards as the door opened inward.

" _Seriously_?"

Leaning on his arms, he looked up at her with an apologetic smile.

She was wearing her sweats and her eyes looked heavy. Like they were carrying too much.

"Does this mean you're inviting me in?"

Skye rolled her eyes and walked back inside as he got to his feet and followed after her, closing the door behind him.

He looked around the honeycomb room, seeing the cot against the wall with the blanket and the bag tossed on the floor. It was the same one she'd arrived with.

Panic started to set in.

"Packing light, I see," he mentioned, walking towards the table with her laptop propped on it in the dim light, the screen illuminating her face.

She stared ahead at the screen and kept working, a determined look on her face.

"You want to leave," he said, after a moment.

"I _am_ leaving," she answered, continuing to work.

"When?" he asked, sitting down in the chair across from her, thinking at the strange memory it pulled to mind.

The two of them, sitting across from each other. That first day.

Her eyes flickered up to his, but she didn't answer him.

"You're a part of this," he started, leaning forward. "If you leave now..."

"They're afraid of me," she snapped.

He swallowed at the weight in her voice. Her mind was already made up.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm not."

She looked over at him in his rumpled shirt, his tie half undone, looking bleary-eyed with the lack of sleep. Ever since the temple.

"You need to get some rest," she ordered.

"I need to know," he said, reaching across the table for her arm, "that you're..."

"I'm not okay, alright?!" she said, standing back so abruptly it sent the chair screeching beneath her.

"That you have a plan," he said, lowering his voice, as his jaw tightened. "That you're not just running away."

"What if I am?" she asked, turning her back to him. "Wouldn't you?"

"Maybe," he said, sliding slowly up out of his chair. "But, I'm not you."

She turned back to him, staring at him, part accusation, part puzzled.

" _Do you ?_ " he asked again, nodding down at her computer. "Have a plan?"

Crossing her arms, she looked down at the floor, then shut the cover of her laptop.

"You always have a plan," he said, with a sad smile.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, shutting her eyes and pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said gently, walking towards the door.

"If it wasn't for SHIELD," she spoke up. "If we had met, and it wasn't...fate...?"

Freezing where he was, she watched his body tense, as he slowly turned over his shoulder towards her.

"I would do it again."

"Me too," she smiled.

 


	2. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just more Skoulson feels.

"This is what you want."

"It is."

She wanted to say the word 'goodbye' but it wouldn't come out.

Instead, she waited, standing near the door of the interrogation room, holding onto her bag.

Then, he came to her.

Throwing his arms around her, and she let go.

It was such a relief. The safety of being held by him. That _knowing_.

It was something she could take with her.

Sighing against him, she hesistated to pull away. She wanted to memorize him like this.

This wasn't him caught up in a moment. They had thrown their arms around each other once, fiercely, when Ward had held her in this same room.

It was different now. He was here with her. By choice. She'd made a decision, and he was _still here_.

Letting her go, because, he trusted her.

And that might suck her in harder than anything she'd _ever_ had to let go of. What she'd wanted, she had found, and now she was going to walk away.

For both their sakes.

Her arms untangled from his shoulders, the fabric of his suit washing over her hands. She pulled back, then hesitated again.

His breath was against her face, her eyes shut tight.

All of that warmth.

He'd stopped breathing.

She tilted her face towards his, her lips softly seeking his.

It was a kiss.

A nothing of a kiss. Tender. Sweet.

His hands drew her closer, drawing her back to his warmth. She didn't want to pull away.

Even though he didn't kiss back, it didn't matter.

She wanted to leave him with a memory, too.

Hands sliding down his arms, she gently pried herself from him, stepping backwards, her eyes tenatively meeting his.

When her fingers reached his hands, he gripped them, squeezing.

"Until next time," she said, forcing herself to let go and then walking across the room.

"Second chances."

He said it just as she'd picked up her bag.

"We're both good at those," she smiled, hefting it over her shoulder.

 

 


	3. Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye returns and starts the Welcome Wagon.

"That went well."

He stepped into the honeycomb room after Kaplan had been escorted out, and had watched the young man walk down the hall, unable to make eye contact.  But he's observed the whole thing already from the feed in his office.

"He just needs some time to adjust to what he's feeling," she said.  "Right now he hates himself.  He doesn't understand what he's become, and he feels responsible for taking a life, even if it was an accident."

His smile was comforting. Reassuring. "You were great," he answered. "I always thought you'd be.  For the record."

"This was what my mother did," she said, closing the file in front of her, glancing at Billy's face on paper for a moment. "Before she met my father. Her name was Jiaying."

"You haven't talked a lot since you came back," then corrected himself. "I mean, about that..."

"I knew what you meant," she answered, turning towards him, trying to cross her arms in front of her and finding the wristbands she wore made that a little challenging. "Um, about a lot of things.  You've been busy, of course."

"Lincoln, for one," he said, crossing his arms. "You trust him?"

"Yeah," she answered, nodding slowly, looking away from him.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air.

"I'm glad you're back," he said, taking a few steps closer to her, looking around the room. "You come here often?"

She clicked her tongue, and looked him over. "I see your sense of humor is still intact," she smiled. "Good to know."

"It didn't _exactly_ evaporate into thin air when you left," he smirked. "It's one of my favorite coping mechanisms."

Leaning against the desk, she rested her hands on its surface, hearing the clink of her wristbands against it, metal on metal.  A reminder.

"Fitz should make those things a little more streamlined, don't you think?" he asked, pointing to her arm.

"He _is_ ," she said, lifting her arm, twisting her hand. "I'm just trying to get used to it. Kinda heavy."

"I can tell," he said, raising his eyebrows to ask permission, and she nodded, as he put his hand on the device, looking it over, as she watched him.

"Fitz told me you were instrumental in the design," she said pointedly. "Thanks."

Their eyes met and she noted his impish reaction, caught.

" _True_ ," he confessed.

"You _are_ a curious man, Director," she said, pushing up off the desk with her free hand, getting in his space.

"What makes you think that?" he said, stepping over his words, and backwards as she followed.

"My profiling instincts," she said, as he bumped up against the wall.

"They _are_ good," he answered, swallowing.

" _I know_."

 


End file.
